


beer bottles, trust, and other breakable things

by LaraH_H



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, asshole/asshole, suggestive :eyes_emoji:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaraH_H/pseuds/LaraH_H
Summary: [Elias realises he’s made a huge mistake a split second before the glass bottle connects with his head.]
Relationships: OC/OC, elias ito/pierre gellbert, elias/pierre
Kudos: 1





	beer bottles, trust, and other breakable things

_Elias realises he’s made a huge mistake a split second before the glass bottle connects with his head. One comment, innocent enough, asking for ice cream money- what had he been expecting? Stupid, stupid. He can see her there, form blurred through tears. His mother. She’s screaming at him in garbled, drugged up, paranoid gibberish, and Elias can feel himself drifting away until the little boy with matted teal hair and empty magenta eyes doesn’t quite feel like him at all._

_He’s brought swiftly back to when she shoves his head in the half-full bathtub. Broken needles line the bottom of the tub, he notes. An odd thing to process while being drowned by his mother, but Elias has accepted that he’s probably fucked up in the head anyway. His body spasms, trying in vain to push back against the brute force of her hand holding his head down, and his vision is going black from lack of oxygen. Elias doesn’t know how much longer he can hold his breath- wonders if he even should, that perhaps it’d be better to die here and never have to face his mother or another bully again, never have to hurt again-_

His body makes contact with the floor of his apartment with a dull thud. And for a moment, he just lays there as his consciousness returns, cheek resting on the cold wooden floorboards. Elias makes eye contact with the reflection on the glass doors to the balcony and immediately wishes he hadn’t. His own eyes stare back at him wearily, sad and looking far too old to be twenty-eight. Hauling himself back up onto his bed, Elias looks up at the ceiling and wills himself to go back to sleep. This quickly proves a problem, considering every time he closes his eyes, images of his mother flash behind his eyelids. 

Before he can really process what he’s doing, Elias’s phone is in his hand and Pierre’s contact (respectfully saved under the name [Cumslut 💖🍑]) pulled up. The time on the screen reads 11:37pm, also helpfully supplying that it’s a Monday. Pierre mentioned something earlier about working late- not that things like schedules or office hours have ever stopped Elias, of course, but he wavers over the call button. Sex would probably distract him well enough, yet the thought of it is decidedly not exciting. He presses call anyway before he can talk himself out of it. 

Pierre picks up on the third ring.

“Is this a booty call?” Straight to the point. As usual. That’s one of the things Elias usually likes about him (he hesitates to even think of the word he actually means when he says like) but tonight… He just doesn’t have an answer. 

“Elias?” Pierre’s voice snaps him back to reality and fuck, what the hell is he doing? They might be calling themselves ‘boyfriends’ now, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything holding them together but amazing sex and lunches spent swapping workplace gossip. 

(Even if his dumb smile makes his chest feel all warm, and he could listen to him talk all fucking day about his boring ass advertising job, and that holding his stupidly soft hand when they walk down the street makes him a sappy son of a bitch)

“Elias? Are you still there?” 

“…Yeah.” Elias cringes at the rawness in his own voice, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.” Suspicion and concern bleed into his tone in equal parts, and Elias can hear the faint creaking of someone leaning back in an office chair (a sound Elias has come to know intimately) through the phone.

“Get your ass over here in twenty.” He waits for the usual retort, some benign response about needing to get such-and-such done, to which Elias will reply with an order-

“I’ll be there in ten.” Is what he gets instead, and the line goes dead. Elias just stares down at his phone in a daze. That… wasn’t what he was expecting. 

He stays like that until, exactly ten minutes later, Elias hears a knock at his door. Stumbling like a patron at his bar on a Sunday night, he practically flings open the door. On his porch, looking as stupidly attractive as he always does, is Pierre, still dressed in his business suit, and the moment their eyes meet Elias has the strong urge to kiss his equally stupid mouth until memories of his past seem too distant to ever touch him, outmatched only by his desire to bury his face in Pierre’s chest and cry like a bitch. 

Elias does neither.

“Hey.” He says, and instantly feels dumb. 

“Good evening.” Formal as ever- it’s a trait Elias has grown to find endearing. He realises belatedly that he should probably let him inside, and shuffles aside to let him enter. Pierre does so promptly, looking at Elias carefully all the while. He refuses to shrink under his searching gaze though, even if he can’t quite meet his eyes.

“Was there a point to you inviting me over?” Was there? Elias doesn’t know where to begin. This is uncharted territory for him; he’s making this up as he goes and doing a shit job at it. Sure, feelings have gotten involved before- there was all that stuff with Pierre’s mom being ill, and Elias comforted him as best he knew how- but for him? To be vulnerable, even for a second, even with the man he’d easily die for, is a notion as foreign as it is terrifying.

“Yeah… I- shit, I just… I had a- fuck, hold on, I’m bad at this. I don’t do feelings.” Elias drags his hands over his face, grappling for the right words to describe the feeling that sits in his chest like a physical weight, heavy and hard to carry and so, so tiring.  
“It hurts.” Is all he comes up with. It’s childish and not even close to conveying the thing he’s feeling. 

But it’s enough. Because in the next instant he finds himself pressed to Pierre’s chest, and that one gesture of affection causes the dam to break, leaving Elias fighting to hold back tears and losing horribly. 

“Idiot..” He sniffles, shivering when he feels Pierre’s hand in his hair, stroking gently and it feels nothing like her hands, bony and rough and yanking at his scalp. His touch is soft. Warm. Safe, Elias almost thinks, before remembering how dangerous that line of thinking could easily become. 

“You’re the one crying like a bitch.” Pierre shoots back, but there’s no bite in it, only something precariously close to fond, and fuck, now he’s crying even harder.

“You- you’re a real...hic… prick.” He gets out between sobs.

“I’ve never claimed to be otherwise.” Elias nearly laughs at that, probably would’ve if he wasn’t so preoccupied with crying. 

The rest of the evening passes by in a blur- he doesn’t remember how they got to the couch, watching some terrible movie that he loves with Elias tucked up under Pierre’s arm. The credits start rolling as his eyelids start to drop.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep here- I am not sleeping on the couch.” 

“...Mhmm…” Maybe if he just rests his eyes for a second-

“Hey!” 

“I’m up, I’m up…” 

“Honestly, what am I going to do with you?” Elias startles when he feels Pierre’s arms curl under his legs, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. If he weren’t so out of it, Elias would be offended. As it were though, he just huffs and closes his eyes. 

“You’re stupid.” He mumbles into Pierre’s shoulder. 

“How kind.”

“And annoying. And dishonest. And stupidly hot. With a great ass. And pretty eyes. Ughhh…”

“Careful Elias, you were almost nice to me for a moment there.” There's a smile in his voice, and Elias frowns. 

“Eat shit and die.”

“All good things come to an end, I suppose.” As Pierre speaks, he tosses Elias onto the bed unceremoniously, laughing at his indignant “oi!” at the treatment before dropping to the mattress next to him. Elias glares at him.

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m also, to quote you, ‘stupidly hot’.” The smugness on his dumb face irritates the hell out of him, so he pulls Pierre in and kisses him hard. His little noise of surprise, coupled with how easily Pierre melts into the kiss fills him with satisfaction, and Elias grabs a fistful of his hair, wrenching Pierre’s head back so he can litter the pale column of his throat with hickies. Pierre moans at the attention. Abruptly, Elias pulls back, smirking all the while. 

“Goodnight~!” He says cheerfully, rolling over so his back faces him. He can hear Pierre sputtering behind him and barely suppresses a snicker. A moment later though, he feels the mattress dip, Pierre’s fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers. 

“Are you sure you want to go to sleep?” Pierre breathes in his ear. Fuck. Elias refuses to bend just yet though and remains stubbornly silent. Then he starts palming at Elias through the fabric of his underwear. The next second sees him pinning Pierre under him.

“I’ll make you regret pushing me.” Elias growls. Pierre looks anything but regretful, grinning up at him with desire in his eyes.

“Make me.” 

So he does.


End file.
